When it’s over, it’s over, and we don’t know
any of us, what happens then.
So I try not to miss anything.
I think, in my whole life, I have never missed
the full moon
or the slipper of its coming back.
Or, a kiss.
Well, yes, especially a kiss.
On this Dia de los Muertos, I would like you to know that I love this beautiful world so much it makes me cry. There is a defensive, cynical, prickly voice inside of me that cringes at such a display of vulnerability, a fear that it makes me sound naive. Certainly in these difficult times, it’s the rational, pragmatic, intellectual, city-fied voice that gets the press. So I guess I’m really not cool. Because I have dorky, unabashed enthusiasm about the precious gift of being alive. About land and monarch butterflies (I saw one yesterday) and the creative work of having a human heart.
There is a lot to embrace, once we start to open. A lot of ugliness and pain and unfairness and so many things that can scare away sleep in the wee hours. It can be difficult to enjoy even the warmth of the sun when you know about parts per million and climate patterns drastically shifting and… but just stop. In this moment, late October sun after days of cold rain feels amazing. Life is too short to build altars to fear and worry. There is response and right action and love and joy. There is gratitude.
The Giants won and last night the whole city was singing for hours with car horns and voices. Today is voting day and some people are engaging in conversation and choice. There is a hummingbird outside that has been singing for hours. My dog is fuzzy. My birthday was yesterday and it was a lovely day.
We live in a beautiful world. Just ask the dead….they will tell you how much they miss taste and smell and touch.
Happy Dia de los Muertos.